A racy romp with misplaced love, “Mary” invites us into Ten Ton Man’s world of booze and broads.
Ten Ton Man introduce us to Mary, a low-class lady in an inebriate idyll.
Upbeat harmony adds airs of sarcasm and satire to this tale of misadventure with a miss.
Distrought over a ruined relationship, singer, Paul Livornese, pours out his pain – emptying his old bottle of blues in a lively baritone.
He agonizes over his mundane muse’s shortcomings, begs her to get going.
He “can not start to be through,” yet, though. She’s insufferable, he’s desperate, they’re incongruous, they’re perfect for each other.
The song is short and pointed, palm-muted in verse and well-suited to their affair.
These two are hopeless.
Midway, a mellow break smooths out the song’s crumpled edge only to welcome it back for a final chorus.
They’re still stuck in the bar. Livornese has lost his patience, his pity and his pride at this point; he’s done with her.
Yet, something tells me they aren’t really done with each other.
Dive into the dive bar with these two in “Mary.”